


The Night After

by CaptainWeasley



Category: The Night Before (1988)
Genre: F/M, Femdom, First Time, Fluff, Happy BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-29 01:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30148758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainWeasley/pseuds/CaptainWeasley
Summary: Tara pegs Winston. A lot of kink and a bit of fluff and literally zero plot. Enjoy :)
Relationships: Winston Connelly/Tara Mitchell
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	The Night After

Tara is straddling Winston, holding up the strap-on she just took from inside the drawer of her night stand, a cheeky grin on her face.

"Well, you said you could handle me. Can you?"

Winston stares at the strap for a long moment—that thing looks _big_. But he wants nothing less than to back down, he wants to face every challenge she throws at him head-on. Also, the idea of Tara fucking him is incredibly hot: he can feel his dick twitching as a shiver of arousal runs through his body, as well as the blush that's creeping into his cheeks.

He looks back at her face just in time to see Tara's grin widen as she watches his reaction.

"Tell me," she demands, and her taking charge like this is turning Winston on even more. "Tell me what you want."

"Yes," he answers breathlessly, trying to sound unfazed and failing, "I want it. I can handle it."

She leans down to kiss him, licks along his upper lip, then playfully takes his lower lip in between her teeth, _tugs_ , and Winston moans. Tara kisses and licks her way up his jawline to his ear.

"Tell me exactly what you want me to do," she whispers, and the soft sensation of her breath on his sensitive skin makes him shudder in the best possible way. His dick is rock hard.

"I want you to fuck me," he breathes. It sounds so lewd out loud, so needy, and Winston realizes how much it turns him on to be commanded by her like this. "Please."

Tara grabs his hair with her free hand, pulls a little to expose his throat when he follows her movement. She kisses him just below his chin, drags her hot, wet tongue down to his Adam's apple.

"You like me being in control?" Her voice is throaty, almost hoarse: she sounds very turned on herself.

"Yes," he admits, flustered.

She sits up again.

"Good."

There's a grin on her face, and Winston can't help but smile back—they look at each other for a moment, and Winston is a little overwhelmed: he never knew he might want this, he might need this, he never knew Tara might be willing to give this to him. His heart is beating loudly in his chest. He can feel butterflies inside his stomach.

"I love you," he blurts out, and it's the truth. He does love her.

Her smile softens a little, and she leans down once more to kiss him, very gently this time. She doesn't say it back, and he doesn't expect her to. Winston runs his fingers through her hair, pulls her closer to deepen their kiss.

"You want to be a good boy for me now?" Tara asks, her voice a whisper against his lips.

Winston can feel himself blushing at being called a _good boy_. He hopes she'll do it more often.

"Yes. Yes, please."

**

Tara looks gorgeous wearing her harness. She's not wearing anything else, which makes the view even better. Her dark hair is framing her cute shoulders, her skin is smooth and flawless except for a ragged scar near her collarbone, faded but clearly visible. Winston resolves to ask her about this later, right now he can't really concentrate on having a serious conversation.

Her tits are beautiful, with very dark nipples. Tara hasn't given him permission to touch them yet, which is a form of torture that should be illegal and which Winston is enjoying very much. He wants to kiss her breasts, wants to close his mouth around her nipples, wants to lick her skin until he knows every inch of her by heart.

There's a strength about Tara that Winston admires, that attracted him to her even before he knew about the possibility of _this_. He sees it now, too, in the way she sits down on the bed, in the way she looks at him, in the way she speaks. A natural ability to command, and to expect obedience.

"Hands above your head," she instructs him and he obeys at once. "Good boy. Now open your legs for me."

Winston feels exposed in a way he has never felt in his life, vulnerable, at her mercy. It's a feeling that makes his heart beat faster, that makes his head spin with arousal.

"You've never done this, have you?"

Winston shakes his head: it would be a lie to say he isn't a little nervous.

"Don't worry, darling. I'll take good care of you. You tell me if something doesn't feel right for you, okay? We can stop at any time."

Tara's voice is so gentle when she says this, and that alone makes Winston want her even more, makes him want to submit to her, to give himself over into her loving care. Tara is looking at him like she expects an answer, and Winston nods in acknowledgement. Satisfied, Tara gives him a little smile, and then she touches him.

Winston's dick is already hard when she gives it a light stroke, and yet her fingers are like electricity on his skin: capable of immediately shutting down his higher brain functions. A groan escapes his mouth, he is desperate for her, oh so desperate. Even so, he keeps his arms where they are, his hands firmly on the pillow, following her orders.

Winston quickly gets the feeling that Tara is playing with him, that she is teasing him just to see what sort of reactions she will get. He doesn't mind, on the contrary: the idea of being her obedient little plaything fuels Winston's arousal, makes his cock impossibly harder.

After a while, Tara's fingers move in the direction of his ass. Winston sucks in a sharp breath because even though he was expecting this, knowing and experiencing are two different things.

"You okay? We don't have to."

Winston shakes his head, barely capable of rational thought.

"No! No, I want to!"

Tara smiles at him, brilliantly, and Winston can't help but smile back. His heart is beating fast with love for her; his entire chest feels very warm, almost like he's glowing from within.

"I love hearing you say that," she tells him, still smiling, while her fingers start exploring.

She's very gentle, goes slow. Her movements are teasing: never quite firm enough, never actually touching the tight rim of muscles this is supposed to be leading up to. Somehow, this makes Winston desperate for her to touch him there, even just to find out how it feels. He can feel his legs shaking a little—he finds himself wishing his arms were bound so he could relax into firm restraints, he'll have to ask her to tie him up next time—he can feel little sparks on his skin where she touches him.

"Please..."

The word falls from Winston's mouth of its own accord, a lewd and wanton sound that makes Tara smile in obvious delight.

"Please what?"

"Please touch me."

There's a wicked edge to her smile now, and the sight makes Winston shudder in the best possible way.

"I am touching you," she says silkily, squeezing one of his ass cheeks for emphasis, "you're gonna have to be more specific."

Winston exhales slowly before answering. There's something particularly personal and intimate about being asked to voice one's desires out loud, then again, he's lying naked in front of her, following her every command. He might as well say it.

"I want your fingers inside of me," Winston begs. "Please."

Tara leans forward, gives him a peck on the lips.

"Good boy." Her praise is gentle and sends a shiver of arousal through Winston's entire body. "You're doing so well."

She picks up the lube and coats her fingers in it. The sight makes Winston even more desperate for her touch, even more eager to be good for her.

When Tara touches him again, her fingers are right where he wants them. The sensation itself is intimate, strange, made even stranger by the fact that the lube feels cool against his hot skin. Winston can't help but instinctively clench his muscles.

"Shhh, it's okay," Tara encourages him softly. "It always feels weird at first. All you need to do is relax. Can you do that for me, Winston?"

Winston takes a deep breath and nods slowly, then does as she says.

"Good boy." She adds a bit of pressure just as he relaxes and then, the tip of her finger glides into him. The sensation is a little overwhelming. "You're doing so well, you're being so good for me. Such a good boy for me."

The praise makes butterflies in Winston's stomach flutter—he's sure that Tara is flustered with arousal as well, judging by her flushed cheeks and her breathless, repetitive compliments. He loves seeing her like this: both in control and yet powerless against her own desire, her own joy. It is a beautifully illogical image, a gorgeous contradiction.

When Tara starts moving her finger slowly, Winston's ability to contemplate this is gone in the blink of an eye. The sensation is intimate in a way he has never experienced; he was barely even aware of existence of such intimacy before now.

Tara takes her time, opens him up with both patience and practised ease while Winston can't do much more than experience and feel and enjoy. He smiles when she calls him her good boy, which she does often. He sighs when she says he feels so good, that she loves touching him like this—he wants to beg her to do this more often, as often as she likes, she need only say the word—but he can't find either his voice or his words in his current condition.

"You good, Winston?"

He nods, his smile bright on his face. She has three fingers inside of him now, easily sliding in and out, and when they're all the way in, Tara crooks one of her fingers and hits a point inside him that makes Winston see stars for a moment. He groans helplessly, deliriously, eager for more, desperate for her to fuck him. If _that_ is what is feels like...

Tara grins at him, her face deceivingly sweet and yet there's a knowing look in her eyes that belies her innocent expression.

"Tell me what you want," she commands.

Obeying her is both exciting and comforting, making his heart beat faster but relaxing his mind at the same time.

"Fuck me," Winston begs, "please, fuck me, I'll be good—so good for you. Whatever you want."

Tara caresses that spot inside him again, eliciting a deep, desperate moan from him.

"How could I ever say no to that?" Her smile is sweet, almost guileless: the happiness in her eyes is unmistakable. Winston loves seeing these soft edges peak through her dominating role, loves seeing her genuine joy.

Winston watches her spread lube all over her cock—there's something particularly arousing in seeing her touch her cock like that, like it belongs there, like it's part of her body.

When she's finished, Tara gently nudges Winston's legs further apart, lines herself up.

"Remember, we can stop at any time. If you feel uncomfortable in any way, I want you to tell me. Promise you will."

"I promise," Winston breathes obediently.

"Good boy."

She pushes into him. Slowly, maddeningly, deliciously, wonderfully, heavenly. Winston forgets to breathe for a while. He watches at Tara and she is utterly gorgeous in her concentration, obviously determined not to hurt him.

He wants her to push him a little, to take him harder, rougher, but he is patient, he is her good boy, he's going to take what she gives him.

And maybe it's good that she's gentle: the sensation is so new, so unlike anything Winston has ever known, that what's left of the rational part of his mind tells him that taking it slow might be a good idea, no matter his baser instincts.

When Tara is all the way inside him, Winston still groans at the feeling of overwhelming fullness, it's almost too much and yet it's not enough and somehow it's perfect. He forces his eyes open to look at her: Tara's face is gorgeous, her cheeks flushed with arousal, her eyes dark with lust, a gentle smile playing about her lips.

"Please, please," Winston begs, he wants more, needs more, needs her to move, to fuck him...

And Tara does. She starts slow, almost too slow, but Winston enjoys every moment of it. Even the way she's gripping his hips, proudly, possessively, in control, is making it harder to breathe. He has never experienced the need to submit like the one Tara inspires within him now: Winston wants her to own him, to command him, to guide him, to dominate him, to dole out gentle praises and fair punishments, he wants to be hers utterly, completely. Her good boy.

Her cock brushes up against that sensitive point inside of him, and a lewd moan falls from Winston's lips. His moans belong to her now, like everything else, and Winston likes it this way, likes being on display for her, open for her, moaning for her.

Winston loses himself in all of it: there is a singular joy in this experience that leaves him breathless and needing and desperate for more, _more_ , and yet the immediate intimacy of her touch is perfect and wonderful. And despite the tension inside him, the almost painful arousal, Winston finds himself relaxing into Tara's care.

"Please," he sighs, "faster, more, please..."

Even with his eyes closed, Winston can hear the smile in Tara's voice.

"I love hearing you beg," she purrs, tightening her grip on his hips, "my good boy, my wonderful boy, my Winston..."

This, in combination with a hard thrust, sends a shudder through Winston's entire body, makes him moan desperately. _Her Winston_. Nobody else has ever said anything to him that's made him so happy—or so aroused.

Tara fucks him harder, faster, like he asked, and it's perfect, and it doesn't take long until Winston comes with a groan that's close to a sob, spilling all over his stomach. Only afterwards does he marvel at the fact that Tara didn't even touch him, that she didn't need to, that she made him come simply by fucking him...

Exhausted, he watches her push the harness aside, dip two fingers into herself to wet them and then bring herself to completion. He tries to memorize the motions she uses so he will know how to satisfy her when she asks him to, but his line of sight isn't ideal. He hopes she will show him, show him exactly how to please her, will let him practice until he's good at it, until he's perfect for her.

Tara comes quickly, and Winston watches her face: she's beautiful in her pleasure, and strangely non-beautiful at the same time. It is a fascinating contradiction and it makes him love her even more. Knowing her this intimately is a privilege, and Winston wants to know even better, wants to know all her tastes, all her sounds, all her fantasies.

Winston wonders for a moment whether Tara can read his mind when she dips her fingers into herself again and holds them to his mouth.

"Lick them clean." It's clearly an order, but her voice is very gentle.

It's highly unlikely that Tara can actually read his mind, Winston decides. This is probably just a happy coincidence. Obediently, he does as she says; her taste is unique, unlike anything else, and Winston loves it, wants more of it, wants to bury his head between her legs and never come up for air.

He can feel himself smiling when he's finished with his task—he never would have guessed that being with a girl could make him so damn _happy_. No, not just any girl. _Tara_.

Tara returns his smile, and she herself seems a little overwhelmed with joy.

"You really do like me ordering you around, huh?"

Winston nods fervently.

"You've no idea."

Tara laughs, and Winston wants nothing more than to embrace her.

"Well, some idea, I think... You still haven't moved your arms."

"You haven't given me permission."

Tara leans down to kiss him, slowly, gently.

"Yeah, that's exactly my point," she whispers against his lips. "Nobody else ever waited for my permission after they came."

For a moment, Winston is tempted to ask exactly how many people she has done this with—then decides it doesn't matter. Apparently, none of them were capable of following orders, so they weren't compatible with Tara anyway.

"You are such a good boy," Tara tells him, making Winston smile again. "You have permission to move your arms now."

Winston does and it hurts—it took actual effort, keeping his arms in one position that long, even despite the position itself being relatively comfortable, and now Winston's muscles are sore.

"Can you tie me up next time?"

Winston is pretty sure that would solve this problem; as an added bonus, it would also be super hot. Tara looks at him in awe.

"Yes. Yes, please! I've always wanted to do that."

They grin at each other in excitement, and Winston caresses her face with one hand, gently tracing her features, the tips of his fingers soft against her skin.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, and she's blushing a little at the compliment.

Which is sort of absurd, she just _fucked_ him, after all, but it's actually sort of comforting, knowing that she can still get flustered like this, that at the end of the day, she's just a regular person who happens to love giving orders. And Winston just happens to love following them.

"You know what?" Tara says, blushing deeper but looking directly into his eyes, "I think I might actually be falling for you."

This makes Winston laugh, more out of surprise than anything else.

"If I'd known I could make you fall in love with me just by complimenting you, that would have saved me a lot of trouble. You're gorgeous, you're wonderful, you're fascinating—the most fascinating person I know. You're smart and you're really good at ordering me around, and when you smile it feels like the whole world lights up."

Now Tara's laughing, as well, even though she's definitely flattered.

"Oh, shut up, you know that's not what I meant. "

Winston leans up to capture her lips in a kiss, and she kisses back deeply, passionately. After their kiss, her eyes are very dark again. Winston can't stop staring at them; when he speaks, his voice is very gentle.

"Well, I'm in love with you, so I think it's only fair if you fall in love with me, as well."

Tara grins at him cheekily.

"That does sound fair," she admits, speaking equally softly.

They kiss again.

"What's your stance on cuddling?"

Tara shakes her head playfully.

"Shower first, we're both filthy. I do have standards, you know."

She winks at him, takes him by the wrist and pulls him along on her way to the bathroom. Winston is happy to let her lead him, more than happy, in fact.

"So, does that mean we're going to be cuddling later?"

Tara looks back at him with a gentle smile on her face.

"Yes, we are, don't worry."

Winston sighs with relief.

"Oh, good." He suddenly remembers that there was a question he'd been wanting to ask her. "What happened to your shoulder?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have a scar below your shoulder. On your chest, right there."

Tara laughs.

"Oh, that. I used to be a bit reckless as a child, it's a long story."

She turns on the water, tests the temperature with one hand. The gesture might appear unimportant, but to Winston it seems strangely personal. Like she's accepting him into her everyday life. The feeling makes his heart beat faster, his whole chest warm with love for her.

"You really want to hear the whole thing?"

Winston nods—there's nothing he wants more right now than to listen to all the stories she has to tell, to learn as much as he can about her life.

"Alright, come on then. I'll tell you while we get cleaned up."

The shower does end up taking quite a while, first because of the story and then because Winston begs her to let him taste her, and then he asks her to teach him how to make her come…

When they're lying in bed together, much later, Winston closes his arms around Tara, kisses her shoulder.

"I love you," he whispers. "You don't have to say it back if you don't want, but I just need you to know. I love you so much."

Tara giggles a little, turns in his arms to look at him.

"You know what? Right now, I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you, too."

They laugh together and kiss each other and Winston doesn't remember ever being happier in his life.


End file.
